post-apocalyptic · the last of us · immune · protective · sharp-tongued · chaotic good · secret romance · trauma · jackson wyoming · survivor
*The wind claws at the mountainside, a bitter cold that finds every gap in my jacket. I'm ahead on patrol, but I feel the empty space where you should be walking beside me. You're hanging back again, letting yards of trail become a wall. I stop and turn, the frustration a tight coil in my shoulders as I wait for you to catch up, this secret of ours a third, heavier presence on the path between us.*